


it takes two to pretend

by Cancer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, OC is only mentioned, wincest of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cancer/pseuds/Cancer
Summary: Sam is not a good person





	it takes two to pretend

**Author's Note:**

> do you people remember that season where dean was gonna go to hell and so sammy is the very supportive brother when dean gets two girls to come sex him up in the hotel the night before he's to die but then sammy is sitting right outside the window and can literally see eveeeeerythiiiing? yeah that.   
> has anyone done this yet? send links (?)

Sam is not a good person.

He’s good at pretending that he is, especially since Dean is good at pretending he’s not a good person, but there’s more good in Dean that there is in Sam, he knows. Sam is also good at pretending he can deal with his emotions better than Dean.

The thing about his brother is that he knows and accepts the fact that he doesn’t want to deal with his own emotions, or anyone else’s emotions for that matter. Sam only pretend to be in sync with his inner self, pretends to know what he’s feeling and how to deal with it, how to fix it, but he’s not better than Dean at being embarrassed, and he’s not better at being sad or angry. He’s particularly not good at dealing with feeling horny. So, at thirteen when he masturbates for the first time and he realizes he’s done it thinking about his brother groaning in the shower two nights ago after a particularly frustrating hunt, Sam locks that shit up inside himself and very intently does not deal with it. He forcefully pretends he doesn’t do it again. And then in Stanford, he forgets about it as much as one can forget about the first sexual experience; that is, he puts it in the back of his mind and every time it tries to show itself again he plays a catchy song in repeat until he can forget what he was about to think.

Contrary to what Dean likes to say about him, Sam is not made of stone. It’s two months after he’s come back that Dean brings a girl to the motel and tells him to make himself scatter for an hour or two. There’s nowhere for him to go. He could go somewhere but he doesn’t feel like it, and as much as he tries to deny it, it’s the memory of lying down in bed listening to Dean in the shower, showing shadows in his memory, so he decides to stay in the car. The car that is parked right outside the window of their room. Where he can see things. Contours through the white curtains. He’s reading, there’s research to do. But then again, as long as he doesn’t admit he’s looking then he isn’t looking.

Dean’s hands aren’t as big as his, but they’re more solid, confident, attractive, and Sam likes how he drags them through the curves of the girl’s body, how he gets rid of the shirt, how he messes up her hair, how he holds onto her hips and kisses her and lets her take control, hold him against the glass and fall to her knees.

He likes how his brother’s elbows knock against the window, how he pulls up his leg a little and then puts it back down, how he holds onto everything and nothing at once, how he throws his head back and then down. He can’t hear him this time, but he remembers his noises clearly, enough to imagine them, enough to palm himself through his jeans until he’s fully hard, holding it until Dean puts his hand on the girl’s hair to hold her still, and he can tell Dean’s coming, going lax. It is then that Sam curses and comes in his pants. Dean would never forgive him if he got his baby dirty with jizz, not if it wasn’t having sex with someone.

Sam wants to feel ashamed. He wants to feel wrong and indecent and promise this is the last time, he will never do it again, but he knows better; he knows that the promise would be broken whiting the week, just like it was when he was thirteen.

He doesn’t go back in the room until his brother is sleeping and the girl is out. They don’t usually stay long, the smart ones that know Dean is a one-night-stand kind of guy, the one that never stays. He cleans himself in the bathroom but doesn’t shower. He wants to feel disgusted by himself, but then again, he really isn’t a good person.

He’s also not as smart as he seems, because it doesn’t occur to him that maybe there’s a reason his brother fucks by the window so often. That maybe his brother knows when he stays in the car. That maybe he’s jerked off when Dean has already turned off the water, and that thirteen-year-olds haven’t yet learned how to be quiet.


End file.
